Here
in this garden
is where I commune
with my God.
He is the earth beneath my fingernails,
the joy in my heart,
the squeals of my children
as they dance
in the dirt.

He is the face
of the flower
flourishing in my light.
The colour of sunset,
the darkness of night.

Here
in this home,
admist this mess
is where I worship
my Goddess.
She is the bubbles
in my babies bath,
the eggs, pickling in the jar
and the laughter
between a husband and a wife.

the days are getting shorter
that means longer nights
thank God!

I don't like waiting until nine pm
to get a fix of night-time impulses

the night
my place
my natural habitat

an odd vitality arises
with the star spangled sky
maybe it's the incongruous lighting
of street lamps, neon,
and stellar speckles
exciting my optics into perceiving
quirky, impressionistic art scenes
in shadows and beams
never quite revealing all
and always leaving a small mystery
to ponder

From the very edge of shadows
imagimotions play with sight,

hidden in those layers of darkness
lies an essence that rules the night.

Of course, she shouldn't wait impatiently
but, raindrops urge repast,

her cognitive skills are wavering
so, this decision may be her last.

So, while this fair maiden is forced to wait
inbetween the drops of her mind,

recollection urges her independant feet
to seek purchase, so as to find;

a place where solace rules the day
where one's confidence can't stop,

Echoes are the shadows of the past
Like ghost of lives in silent streets
In events and episodes of history
Which continue long after ending

Echoes are the wars we have fought
Like thousand lives in twin towers
Weeping in Afghanistan and Iraq
Terror begets terror in anti terrorism

Echoes of earthquakes and tsunamis
Washed in rising tons of sea water
Into the opened womb of the earth
Drowned lives in tolls of thousands

Dusk begins to fall
as the light of day
makes its escape

I hear thunder
rumbling in the distance
I look out my window
and see dark clouds rolling in.

Moving like hell bend smoke
they overtake the clear sky
hail comes crashing down
making way for what is to come
as fear constricts my every thought

A “Hooded Stranger” appears
but there is no face
to recognize
A cape hangs from its shoulders
dancing in the winds from hell
as if it is alive

I long to disappear
I have no strength to fly

fold my wings and dive
deep below the cresting waves

let the rip tide pull me
leaving all anguish
leaving desolation

cradled in cold
no longer weighted
my mind quiet at last.

She had made up her mind,
to be alone,
to cut herself off
from all perfunctory contacts.
He, too, was widdershins,
unwinding the sensations
of disintegration and anti-life.

Neither of them could stand
each other,
let alone the thought - the treason
of growing old
together.

Outsider

Wind violently screams and unsettles the calm
Invisible force powered by a façade of brutality
He steps away from his dream back into reality

Hail thrashes from the sky onto the frozen road
Ocean of grey erodes against the wall of security
He drifts into the void towards unknown futurity

Hooded stranger
Man with no name
Cloaked outsider
Man with no face

Shadowed stranger
Man with no name
Disguised rider
Man with no face

London’s oppressive heat….

Birds they’re all eating dog shit
policemen taking in illegal pay
Politicians set the town ablaze
with things they do and say.

The kids they try to rule the streets
bricks masks and a lot of indignation
But me I haven’t a thing to fear
I’m living safe in my own coruscation.

Continuous noise of sirens wailing
firemen and coppers race to flame
Don’t care if they’re all off jailing
something not someone, is to blame.

ARTERIAL CURE

Alternative tradition implies
What goes up must come down
See the waiting wonders
My aunt in the village
Prepared some medicine
For reducing hypertension
In these times of stress
She collected tree barks
By seven shrines
On seven hills
Over seven nights
From seven witch doctors